Dragonstorm
by Gaara's Plaything
Summary: Was going to have this multi chapter, then realised it was better as a one shot. The dragonborn runs into someone she'd only met once before, whilst procrastinating on her duty as dragonborn. FNord dragonborn & Hadvar.


**Hey there! So, I borrowed my sister's PS3, and didn't like this game at first, because of the first person in the beginning. I ****hate**** first person, it always makes me so dizzy! Anyway, I eventually gave it another go, and became absolutely obsessed with it! I managed to bribe for a few extra weeks with the console and game, but had to give it back recently. Now I need to get my own console, but I don't know when I can, since not only is Christmas coming, but I also have a ****huge**** bill I still haven't paid off yet.**

**Enough ranting, though. I hope you like this. I've got several ideas, but this is the only one that's made it to a completed chapter. Hope you like it. Oh, and don't asked me why I called it Dragonstorm, I've got no idea.**

**I don't own Skyrim, Bethesda does. I do hope they hurry with Dawnguard on the PS3.**

_**Dragonstorm**_

**Delays**

Everyone had heard the call of the Greybeards and were waiting with bated breath for the Dragonborn to show themselves, but the person in question was, quite frankly, stalling.

Sif was in Riverwood, just hanging around and partaking in Hod and Gerdur's hospitality. She was helping out around the village though, not being a layabout or anything. She'd chop some wood for the mill, helped out Alvor around the forge, and even offered to hunt some deer and rabbit for the inn, though only Orgnar was appreciative of this, that woman Delphine was super suspicious of her for some reason…

In any case, it was now five weeks since the Greybeards had called her, about six and a half weeks since she'd first escaped Helgen with Ralof's help. The Stormcloak was still here, not yet ready to make the trip up to Windhelm, though she could tell he was getting restless and eager to get on his way. She had no doubt that soon Ralof would make the trip, and only hoped he wouldn't run into any Imperials along the way.

Sif, on the other hand, was just being a coward by lingering here. That's not to say she completely stuck to the village, she just wasn't headed anywhere near Ivarstead or High Hrothgar. She went out exploring once in awhile, usually bringing back spoils from bandit camps and such to sell to Lucan or Alvor. She'd even been back to Helgen once, which she'd discovered had been overrun by bandits. Of course, once she'd dealt with the bandits, a dragon had swooped down and she'd killed it, absorbing its soul…

At this particular point in time, she was helping Alvor out, forging a few helmets for an order he had for some Imperial soldiers. Sif had become quite good at the blacksmith craft, and she'd moved up to crafting steel and imperial weapons and armour, and was this close to being able to make elven gear. Alvor had joked with her that maybe one day she would be making Skyforge steel. Like that would happen!

"That's some fine craftsmanship there, Sif," Alvor was saying.

"It's just an iron sword," Sif argued. "Easy to make."

Alvor chuckled. "That it is, lass," he agreed. "Doesn't mean it's not good quality."

His voice kind of broke off, and Sif glanced up to see a happy look on his face. "Hadvar!" he called out, and Sif was sure she'd heard that name somewhere before.

"Uncle Alvor," a voice spoke, and Sif's back stiffened when she recognised the voice of the young soldier from Helgen. "It's good to see you. I was passing by and thought I'd check in to see how you're doing."

"We're doing well, lad, all things considered," Alvor said, walking past Sif and down the steps behind. "And what of you, lad?"

"Fine," Hadvar said. "I'm down here on Tullius's orders, we're looking for Stormcloaks rumoured to be somewhere near here. So far no luck, though."

The two men started chatting, and from the sounds of it, seemed to be headed inside. But then Alvor remembered she was there and called out, "Call it a day, Sif, I'm going to be a bit busy catching up with my nephew. Why don't you go check if Gerdur needs any help?"

Letting out a sigh, Sif turned and nodded to Alvor, noting that Hadvar's eyes widened at the sight of her. "Sure thing, boss," she said, and Alvor laughed, ushering his still shocked nephew into the house.

As calmly as possible, Sif made her way to the mill where Gerdur was busy chastising Faendal. The woman saw her coming and she smiled, then frowned when she noted the serious look on Sif's face. She dismissed Faendal, who glared at Sif (she'd ratted him out on the rude letter he'd wanted Camilla to think was from Sven) and left.

"What's wrong?" Gerdur asked.

"There's an Imperial soldier here," Sif told her. "Hadvar his name is."

Gerdur nodded. "He's Alvor's nephew," she said. "But why do you look worried?"

"Didn't Ralof tell you?" Sif asked. "Hadvar was at Helgen. He told me while we were escaping that the two of them were friends once."

"No, he said nothing," Gerdur mused. "If Hadvar was at Helgen… Did he recognise you?"

Nodding, Sif said, "He also knows I escaped with Ralof. Probably. I mean I did follow your brother while Hadvar was standing right there."

"Go back to the house," Gerdur said. "Warn Ralof to get out, Hadvar might try to come around and arrest him."

The forge was still empty when Sif passed by, trying not to run. Hopefully Alvor and Sigrid would be busy fussing over Hadvar long enough for Sif to warn Ralof. It would definitely be best for the Stormcloak to get out of Riverwood now, but she wasn't sure if he would leave without saying goodbye to his sister.

When she arrived at the house, it was to find Ralof regaling Frodnar with tales of being a Stormcloak. "…and then there were Imperials in front of us," he was saying. "It looked like it was the end for us, but with the guidance of Talos, we managed to beat them, for Skyrim!"

"Yay!" Frodnar exclaimed, then saw Sif. "Did you hear that, Sif? My uncle Ralof is the best!"

Sif smiled indulgently. "He sure is," she agreed. "Could you do me a favour, though?"

Nodding eagerly, Frodnar agreed, "Sure, what is it?"

"Could you go outside for a bit, make sure only your mother and father come in here?"

"Sure," and the boy was out the door, the sound of Stump barking happily greeting him.

"What's wrong?" Ralof asked.

"Hadvar's here," she told him, and he stiffened. "He saw me, recognised me. And you and I both know he is most likely aware that we escaped Helgen together. He might come search the house."

"I need to leave then," Ralof said, gathering up his few possessions. "I'm not going to go far, hide out a bit maybe in the woods. Don't really want to leave without saying goodbye to Gerdur, you know?"

Sif nodded. "I thought you might want to do that," she said, then pulled out her map. "Here," she said, pointing. "There's a Stormcloak camp there, I came across it a couple of weeks ago."

"Southeast…" Ralof mused, studying the map. "Not far from Helgen by the looks of it."

"Just keep off the main paths," Sif told him. "And for Talos's sake, don't go picking any fights until you get there!"

"Who me?" Ralof asked, then laughed at her expression. "Since you know where it is, come tell me when Hadvar's gone, would you?"

"Of course."

A quick peck on her cheek, and Ralof was gone.

Sif gave Frodnar the all clear, and though the boy was upset at first about his uncle being gone, he quickly changed tack and started asking Sif about her travels, both before and after they'd initially met. She was regaling him with one time she'd led a bunch of sell swords to a bandit camp in Cyrodiil when there was a knock at the door. Frodnar immediately jumped up to answer it, and it turned out to be Hadvar.

"Imperials aren't allowed in the house, Hadvar," Frodnar was saying. "Ma and Da said you people aren't welcome here."

"I won't come in," he said. "I wanted to speak to Sif, if that's alright."

"I don't think she'd want to talk to _you_," Frodnar said, more than a little rudely.

"It's alright, Frodnar," Sif said, coming to the door. "You go play with Stump or Dorthe, ok? Pretend you're out fighting bandits."

"Ok, Sif!" Frodnar said cheerfully, and ran off.

Sif stepped out of the house, locking it behind her. "You wanted to talk?" she asked.

"Is Ralof in there?" Hadvar asked, not mincing his words. "If he is, you know I have to arrest him."

"He's gone," Sif told him, arms across her chest. "The house is empty."

Hadvar nodded, though she wasn't sure he believed her. It was true, if only just for the past couple of hours or so, and she had the feeling that he probably figured that she'd given Ralof warning to get out. Suddenly he held his arm out for her. Surprised, she took it, and he led her off through the village towards the bridge that lead towards Whiterun. Once there he led her to the far end of the bridge, then released her arm.

They were both silent a moment, then he said, "You came here with Ralof."

Sif nodded. "His sister has been very kind to me, letting me stay at her place," she told him. "I went to Whiterun for her to tell the Jarl about the dragons, which is one of the reasons there are Whiterun guards here."

"I noticed them," he told her, then asked, "Are you with the Stormcloaks?"

"Why should I answer that?" Sif asked. "I mean, you and your men already made that assumption when I stumbled across you and your little ambush."

"I only ask because I've been curious ever since I discovered your name wasn't even on our lists," he told her. "Even the horse thief was on it, and he wasn't a Stormcloak at all."

"And yet your General was going to have him executed despite that," Sif remarked. "I always thought the penalty for horse theft was a fine and jail time, not execution!"

"It is," he told her. "But when you have the leader of the rebellion in your grasp, I guess the rules change."

"Like ordering the execution of an innocent civilian?" Sif remarked acerbically.

Hadvar sighed. "That was a mistake," he told her.

They were silent a moment, then Hadvar asked, "Is that an Imperial accent I've been hearing?"

Sif nodded. "I've been trying to get rid of it," she told him. "I've gotten a few funny looks from people, a Nord with an Imperial accent, you know?"

"I'm surprised," he told her. "There are plenty of Nords with Imperial accents, and the other way around, too. They're ones who've either been living here long enough to pick it up, or were born here. I'm sure you'll get the accent down in time."

"Maybe."

They were silent again, and Sif noted that the day was beginning to approach its close. It wasn't even darkening yet, but she knew it would be soon enough. "I should get back," she said. "Gerdur might need some work done at the mill, since Alvor's called it a day."

She made to move past him, but Hadvar grabbed her hand, bringing it to his lips to place a chaste kiss there. "You know, the moment I saw you, I thought you were beautiful," he told her, and Sif couldn't help but blush. "I thought it was a shame when you ran off with Ralof."

"Sorry to disappoint," Sif said, trying to sound calm, but annoyed when her voice cracked instead.

Hadvar just smiled and pushed her hair out of her eyes. "You could never disappoint me," he told her.

"What if I joined the Stormcloaks?" she asked. "Wouldn't that disappoint you?"

Sighing, Hadvar admitted, "Ok, maybe that would disappoint me."

Sif was about to respond, but then Hadvar leaned down to lightly kiss her lips. "I'll see you later, Sif," he murmured, then left, headed back to his uncle's house.

Sif stood there for quite awhile, her fingers ghosting over her lips, then she mentally shook herself. She headed over to the mill, only to find Gerdur watching her slyly. "Look at you, wrapping young soldiers around your finger," the older woman commented, causing the younger to blush.

"I-I don't know what you mean," Sif stammered uselessly.

"I'm not blind you know," Gerdur told her, still smiling. "I saw Hadvar kiss you. I'm pretty sure that all the young men in this town fancy you if only a little. Even Faendal, and he's pretty mad at you about the whole Camilla thing. Though I'm sure if you had an Amulet of Mara, he'd forget that in an instant."

"Gerdur!" Sif gasped, shocked.

"Oh, come on," Gerdur pressed. "You are the epitome of a Nord woman, you know. Beautiful, strong, with a name blessed by the ancient gods themselves. If he were fifteen years younger, I'd be worried about Hod… but he's devoted to me."

"I would never… A married man!" Sif sputtered.

"I know you wouldn't, you're incredibly honourable," Gerdur said, taking the young woman in her arms.

Sif sighed. "I wish Sigrid knew that," she said. "She keeps warning me off her husband."

"Oh, don't worry about that," Gerdur told her. "She warns _everything_ female off her husband. Not long before you came by, there was an Argonian troupe through here, and Sigrid felt it necessary to warn the female of their group off her husband too."

Sif laughed at that. "That would have been a sight to see!" she giggled.

There was a pause, then Sif asked, "_All _the young men? Including Ralof?"

Gerdur smiled indulgently. "Aye, even my little brother."

Now _that_ was something to think about.

A few more days passed and Sif finally decided it was time to get going to High Hrothgar. Hadvar had left only the day before, and she planned on stopping by the Stormcloak camp to tell Ralof the news. Gerdur, Hod and the other villagers were sad to see her leave, but understood she needed to move on.

"You'll always be welcome back here," Alvor said. "You are the best assistant I've ever had. Er, next to Dorthe that is," he added at his wife's stern look.

Ralof was indeed at the Stormcloak camp, and when he learned she was off, wished her luck. High Hrothgar was waiting for her, and Sif didn't want to wait any more.

**So what did you think? By the way, I'm absolutely in love with the second pre-set for a female Nord in the game. You know, the one right next to the blonde that automatically comes up. Doesn't help it's a red head, I absolutely **_**love**_** red heads! The only thing I really ever changed on her was hairstyle, eye colour, scars and war paint. So that's what Sif looks like. Also, Sif is one of the few Norse names I like, and is the name of one of the wives of Thor.**

**Review please!**


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